What Dreams Are Made Of
by mykindofparty
Summary: It's been fifteen years since she roamed the halls of McKinley randomly bursting into song and dance. Now? She's famous. In Europe.


What Dreams Are Made Of

By: Me

Summary: It's been fifteen years since she roamed the halls of McKinley randomly bursting into song and dance. Now? She's famous. (In Europe.)

Author's Note: This is my graduation gift to Jax since she's going to become a lawyer and most likely represent me in court someday… ENJOY! (Yes, the title is a nod to _The Lizzie McGuire Movie_).

* * *

"So you're a pop star in… Europe?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "I prefer the term _international recording artist_, but yes."

"You're not famous here."

"You think I don't know that, Finn?" she snaps. Damn. It took less than a minute for him to get under her skin. Still, she can't help but feel a little guilty. It _has_ been fifteen years. "You can find my stuff on iTunes though," she says in lieu of an apology.

To her surprise, he nods. "Cool! I started a band with some of my Army buddies. We're not half bad. I have a few demos in my truck if you want one..."

"You're not the lead singer, are you?" she asks.

"Nope, just drums."

Santana pats him on the shoulder. "Sure. Find me later," she says, before taking a swig of spiked punch.

…

"We were up to our eyeballs in debt after my knee injury," Mike tells her. "Tina here is the one who convinced me to become a paleontologist."

"He loves dinosaurs," Tina adds.

Mike grins. "I had to go back to school, but now that my student loans are just about paid off, we're finally going to start a family."

"Congratulations," Santana says.

"Hey, that's nothing compared to you! I heard your new song is soaring up the charts," Mike says.

"Yeah, it's called _Winehouse_. I wrote it myself."

Tina laughs. "I hope your songwriting's improved since _Trouty Mouth_."

…

"So where do you live when you're not recording in London?"

"A chalet in the Swiss Alps."

"Rustic," Sugar comments, bopping her head along to the music. "Do you have a Swiss bank account, too?"

…

"Is it true that you met Adele?" Rachel asks demandingly.

"We've rubbed elbows."

Rachel's jaw drops. "I need details, Santana!"

"We casually passed each other in the bathroom. Once."

"Wait– I thought you were like… a _star_ over there."

Santana crosses her arms. "Well, Adele's a supernova."

"That's still closer than I've ever gotten to her," Rachel admits sullenly.

"Damn straight."

…

"You lookin' to hire a bodyguard?" Puck asks her. "I'm sort of… in between jobs right now."

"Nah, but I could use a pool boy," she says.

He sits up. "Really?"

"I can't believe you fell for that," she gloats, wiping the smirk right off his face. "Then again, you also thought I was straight… and into you."

"What about a chauffeur?" he pleads as she makes her way across the gymnasium.

…

She's scanning the crowd when someone knocks into her. "Watch it!" she shrieks as she narrowly avoids spilling punch on her dress.

"You watch it," Mercedes shouts back. "We were supposed to record a duet together three years ago, _Santana_."

"Well, _Mercedes_, it wasn't up to me. My label nixed the idea."

Mercedes's lips curl into a smile. "It's not like my fans have ever heard of you anyway," she jokes. "I'm gonna see what my husband's up to. Talk later?"

"Sure," Santana replies, before calling, "by the way, you didn't sound half-bad at the Super Bowl."

"Girl, tell me somethin' I don't know," Mercedes hollers back.

Santana crosses her arms. "I would've sounded better."

…

"So what do you do?" she asks once she's cornered Tina.

"What?"

"You said that Mike's a paleontologist, but what about _you_? Did you ever make it to Broadway?"

"Um…" Tina falters. "No. I'm actually Rachel's personal assistant."

"You gotta be shitting me," Santana says.

"Believe it or not, I actually like it," Tina says. "I get to live in New York and most of my communication with Rachel is through texts since she spends most of her time in the theatre."

"I suppose that would make a difference," Santana muses. "You've done wonders for her wardrobe, by the way."

Tina blushes. "Thanks."

…

"You're a _manny_?"

"And an aspiring playwright."

"Kurt," Santana says, "what happened?"

"Blaine happened. I put his dreams before mine and let's just say I saw his true colors."

"He's not here, is he?"

"He's performing on a cruise ship. We still talk every now and then. What about you? I heard you were spotted recently at Fashion Week."

Santana inspects her nails. "That's right."

…

Santana stops when she sees Joe. "Shouldn't you be performing miracles by now?" she asks. "Because if I recall, you only have a few more years before you're crucified."

"I actually worship Satan now," he replies cheekily. "You have a surprising amount of followers."

"And _you_ finally have a sense of humor. About time, Adult Jesus."

…

"Hey Santana–"

Santana puts her hand up, blocking his face. "Not now, Rory."

…

"Santana," Artie says, "I put together a video of some of your performances. Mostly just bits and pieces. I hope you don't mind, but I'd really like to play it tonight. I already have the projector set up."

"That's fine, Artie," she says sullenly.

"Great! See you later, superstar."

_Is that all anybody cares about? _she thinks as she pours herself another glass of punch.

…

"Why do you keep looking over your shoulder?" Quinn asks her. "Afraid the paparazzi will find you?"

"Why? Are you gonna sell me out like you did junior year? Is tomorrow's headline going to read _International Celebrity Spotted Slumming at Glee Club Reunion_?"

"That's a little wordy for my taste. And in case you've forgotten, I'm a news anchor."

"I know," Santana groans. "My mom emails me all the time about what a great job you're doing and that you're the next Katie Couric and how I should move back to America."

"Your mom thinks I'm the next Katie Couric?" Quinn asks.

Santana pauses. "Or did she say Rachel Maddow?"

Quinn smacks her on the arm. "You're making that up."

"Well, it was one of the two," Santana says with a shrug.

"I see you've only gotten worse with age," Quinn jibes. "Or maybe what little fame you have has gone to your head."

…

Sam finds her in the smoking in the parking lot. "There you are," he says. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Why?" she says bitterly, taking a long drag from her cigarette. "Because I'm famous?"

"My wife is famous, Snix. You're virtually unknown in this country."

A tiny hand pulls at her dress, causing her to look down. "Mami!"

"Baby girl!" Santana squeals, peppering kisses all over her face.

"Sorry we're late. The kids were still jetlagged so I let them sleep a bit longer," Brittany says, giving her wife a peck on the cheek. She turns her attention to their daughter. "Katniss, I told you not to let go of my hand! And have you seen BJ? I told him to stay by the–"

Sam snickers. "Sorry. It still makes me laugh that you named your kid BJ."

"Real mature, Sammy," Santana says. "It was going to be Brittany Junior when we thought he was a girl and BJ just kind of… stuck." She kneels down so that she's face-to-face with her daughter. "Katniss, baby, did you promise Mama that you'd hold her hand in the parking lot?"

"_I-I-I had my fingers crossed!"_ Katniss singsongs.

"A promise is a promise fingers crossed or not," Santana says clearly. "And what does breaking promises get you?"

"Timeout," Katniss pouts.

"That's right," Brittany agrees. "And running in the parking lot gets you a spanking. Now, have you seen your brother?"

Katniss nods. "He went to find Sasha."

"Sasha Evans?" Sam says. "My daughter Sasha? They're ten!"

Brittany laughs. "Relax, Sam, BJ's a good kid. He reminds me of Santana at that age."

Sam's face pales.

"Don't worry. I was practically an angel before I got to middle school," Santana tells him, although he's hardly reassured.

Brittany scoops Katniss up into her arms. "C'mon, Cat Pee, let's find BJ. Your punishment can wait until we get back to your abuela's house. Talk to you later, Sam."

"I don't get it," Sam says once Brittany's out of earshot. "Why were you so _depressed_ earlier? The second your family showed up, you were… perky."

"All anybody's asked me about tonight is what it's like to be a pop star. Why don't they care to hear about my family?" Santana whines.

"Maybe it's because your family is _all_ Brittany talks about."

"What?" Santana asks.

"C'mon, did you really think that just because you only stayed in touch with a few people from Glee that Brittany did the same? She's still friends with everyone except Finn and Rachel. I can't tell you how many emails I've gotten from your wife about BJ's soccer team or Katniss's gymnastics competitions."

"It's called football over there. Not soccer."

"Whatever," Sam says. "The point is that we know everything there is to know about the Lopezes as a family. I guess some people just want to know what else you do. Most of them don't live glamorous lives like we do, y'know? I've been on tour with Mercedes and it's phenomenal. But a lot of our classmates didn't get to experience that after high school."

"It wasn't easy," Santana replies, thinking back on her first few years out of high school. "But now I couldn't be happier."

…

"Mike just reminded me of the time he and I stayed up all night gushing about our girlfriends. It's funny how much I forgot about and how much I remember," her wife whispers once she's back inside the gymnasium. "Katniss is with Mercedes, by the way."

"What do you remember about me?" Santana asks shyly.

"I remember seeing you walk into homeroom our first day of high school and thinking that I was looking at a totally different Santana."

"God, Brittany, I'm still so embarrassed by how I used to act…"

"No, let me finish. I remember watching you walk in and you were the most beautiful person I had ever seen and I didn't know why it took me so long to realize that."

"I remember that day like it was yesterday," Santana says. "I couldn't figure out why you wouldn't stop staring at me. I thought there was something in my teeth."

"Nope, nothing," Brittany says, grabbing her wife's hand. "What do you say we tell everybody about the time _our family_ had waffles with the king of Belgium?"

Santana intertwines their fingers. "Only if we can dance later."


End file.
